


Entanglement

by Scarlettpeony



Series: From Shadows to Stars [7]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Porn, Arguing, Azure Moon Timeline, Cheating, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff and Angst, Foreplay, Infidelity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexual Content, Touching, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlettpeony/pseuds/Scarlettpeony
Summary: For his part, Claude had come to a point where he was fully prepared to meet Dimitri face-to-face and tell him the truth. He was beyond the guilt and shame, he just wanted it to come out. The whole truth - or at least as much as Byleth would be willing to share - as long as how they felt was out in the open.He had had enough."I'm not frightened of Dimitri,"  Claude had told Byleth frankly, and her eyes had been troubled as she replied."I'm glad one of us isn't."Claude resolves to bring the conflict against Edelgard's mysterious former allies to an end. However, its resolution also means parting ways with Byleth - and he decides that he cannot continue to live a lie any longer.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: From Shadows to Stars [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1516988
Comments: 27
Kudos: 66





	1. Song of the Wyvern

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a post-canon Azure Moon timeline, though the series may contain references to the Crimson Flower, Silver Snow and Verdant Wind reveals and scenarios.
> 
>  **Special note:** I am trying something new with this latest update by publishing it in four separate parts. For your reference, this fic is rated primarily for Part 4, which will contain _explicit_ sexual content.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude comes to an important decision about Byleth while taking an early morning wyvern ride.

☽

_Twenty-second Day of the Red Wolf Moon, the Year 1188._  
_Roz '1 Naunma'ara, sal-3999._

Claude looked up from his desk, realising that he had lost track of time. For a moment, he was uncertain whether he was even awake or had dozed off while working. Again. 

He had no idea what time it was.

_Late, or early, probably._

Winter was finally catching up with them. The day had been overcast, and the light was lost by the seventeenth hour. A brisk wind swept in from outside, making the king shiver and the flame of his low-burning candle wobble weakly.

Claude felt queasy looking at the maps spread out across his table and the mindless notes he had made throughout the day. He had poured over the map of the surrounding area, trying to pre-empt. Every. Single. Possible issue that might occur if Byleth's "strategy" was to be used. He was confident he had managed it, too. The idea wasn't inherently faulty. If pulled off, it would be a great stroke of warcraft worthy of Claude and Byleth's reputations as tacticians. But he had bogged himself down with the quintuple and sextuple reviews he was giving it. Too much could go wrong when luring an enemy into a tight spot like the one Byleth had identified in Gwalchmai Ravine, no matter how brilliant the scheme was. For that reason alone, it warranted septuple and octuple checks as well.

Though he still hated the idea of using her to lure out Edelgard's old buddies, Claude couldn't deny her logic. The death of Jakob von Bergliez should have marked the end of this conflict. Instead, the mages had discarded his battered body and ambushed them in Miach Forest. They were undoubtedly targeting someone – and it was almost certainly Byleth. 

The truth was that he _might_ have had more fun with it had he been leading the faint. Claude valued his life too highly to do anything that might see its end, but he did love taking risks. Ensnaring the enemy while putting himself on show, like a cherry waiting to be plucked from a cake, was a tried and true method for him during the 'War of Succession' that saw him win the crown.

Escaping the clutches of death with a well-cooked scheme was almost as good as sex.

_Well, not that good. But pretty good._

But it wasn't him, it was Byleth. There was no exciting rush; instead, his mind immediately went to all the ways the plan could fall apart. It ate away at him — the 'what-ifs'. _If anyone can handle being 'bait', it's Teach…_ but Byleth was the fire of his being. Just one missed detail could spell disaster. They pursued her against all logic. Unless he nailed down every corner of the plot, it could lead to disaster.

He could lose her.

_If something does go wrong, I'll never forgive myself._

As sweet an ache as love was the dread, and 'what-ifs' were driving him out of his mind.

Claude knew how important it was to use an enemy's tunnel-vision against them - every foe, every cause, had a Kyphon's heel. 

During the most recent Succession War, the one that saw him become king, his elder half-brother Mastahfar Dariushsennu Al-Arashnahm had pursued him to the point of straight-up mania. They had never been close; when Khalid had just begun his education, Mastahfar was already reaching manhood. The king's eldest son was hailed by conservative members of the _yúdhyatahm_ \- the aristocracy - as the ideal Almyran prince. He was from two renowned bloodlines, ancient and 'pure' - his late mother had been from a declining _marzpahn_ family, House Shirin - big, tall, and strong. 

Mastahfar had relished in the admiration he received during his early years. Like all Almyran princes, he had been educated by his mother, then her family after she died. That family clung to their former glory during the age of _Xsahxsahran_ Kurosh III _e'Ahli,_ before the Locket was constructed. While the average Almyran 'simply' looked down on Fódlan as cowards hiding behind their little fortresses, House Shirin despised the pallid neighbours and brutalised them at any opportunity. As a result, the Alliance responded in kind, leading to more bloodshed. Many children were taken hostage over the decades by Fódlan in an attempt to ransom them back to House Shirin in exchange for fewer attacks. Unfortunately, House Shirin did not care for the orphans they had made in their numerous battles and never bothered to try and retrieve them, abandoning them to an enemy who saw them as little better than beasts. They were still doing it, up until recently. Claude was reasonably sure this was how Cyril ended up in Fódlan. 

This had been the world Mastahfar had grown-up in, so Khalid was not surprised the man he became was a sadist who lived only for power, torture and his own ego. He loved himself and damned the rest of the world. Once the boy became a man, Mastahfar believed it to be his life's mission to reverse their father and grandfather's trade policies, restore the military clout of Almyra, and "erase the _ahmixtan_ " from the sacred bloodlines. 

_He might as well have said, "Kill Khalid!" with that last one._

In so many ways, Mastafar had been Khalid's antithesis - and when the time came to fight for the throne, Khalid had known the only path to true unification of the eight houses would be with his eldest brother's death. 

Finally defeating him had been an immense relief.

Pins and needles were attacking Claude's soles. With a delicious stretch, he dragged himself to his feet. Those first few steps were agony as his legs remembered what their function was. 

"I need to stretch my legs!" he told himself aloud. "Fresh air. Exercise--"

_Jamilah!_

Perfect. There was no air fresher than one-hundred feet above the ground. Staying at his desk all day, Claude had neglected his daily ride earlier - and Jamilah would not forgive him for that. She was a demanding wyvern, as all her breed were. 

Originating from Sandahn, the northernmost point of Almyra, rare Saragen wyverns were valued for their resilience to both hot and cold climates as well as the thickness - and beauty - of their scales. When shredded, they made welcome additions to shields and armour. They even made attractive adornments for jewellery. Held up to the light, they had an iridescent quality akin to opals. Claude gave Byleth a couple of Jamilah's on their last night together, the day the treaty was signed.

_I wonder if she still has them._

He walked out of the entrance to his pavilion. 

Beyond the awning, the sky was pitch-black. The only light that emulated through the camp was the orange glow of the torches, and a few campfires with soldiers circled around them still burned. Most of his people were probably tucked up in bed —perhaps with a camp-follower or even each other.

_Gods know I'd rather be cosy in bed with Byleth right now._

Wallace, the guard on duty outside his quarters, bowed to acknowledge the _Shah_. "Everything well, _janob'e-ahli?"_ he asked, words Almyran but accent distinctly Fódlean.

"Very well, Wal," Claude replied through a yawn. "What time is it?"

"Fifth hour of the brand new cycle, sire."

"Ah, yes! Girlaspa is riding across the sky now," the Almyran king remarked, looking up at the night sky. "My mother's birthday is tomorrow."

"Many happy returns to the Queen Mother, Your Royal Excellency," said Wallace, politely.

"Ha, I'll be sure to pass them along."

Claude gazed up at the tiny, twinkling stars above their heads and tried to trace out the constellation of Girlaspa, the legendary war-horse. 

"I owe Jamilah a ride," he continued. "Won't take long."

"Should I arrange some _pasban_ to accompany you?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." Claude patted his sword with a smile. "Just hold the fort until I'm back. I won't stray far. If I'm not back in one hour, _then_ you can worry."

Wallace chuckled and bowed. He was used to these requests, whether Claude was sneaking off to be alone, with his wyvern - or with the archbishop.

"Actually," Claude added, turning back to Wallace. "I might have another letter for you to deliver to Lady Byleth when I get back."

 _Might_. Claude wanted to sit on his plan a little while longer - perhaps a flight with Jamilah would help clear his mind.

Wallace was decent enough not to roll his eyes at the mention of 'another letter'. 

"As you wish, Your Excellency," he said, with another bow.

Claude and Byleth tended to exchange letters on days they could not be together. Claiming them to be dispatches and reports, they passed love notes between their guards. It was the nature of their relationship from the moment they had crossed the line from wistful longing to confessed love. Claude knew that every word he wrote to Byleth likely ended up as fuel for the hearth - a necessary (yet hurtful) act. A reminder of his place in her life. Her lover. Her secret. Her sin. Condemned to the shadows. Hushed whispers, quick dalliances, stolen kisses, and love letters they couldn't keep.

Each letter was sealed with wax and their enchanted stamps, her _rota_ and his _toghra_. Not that he believed one of his men would dare break the royal seal and expect to keep their fingers, but one could never be too careful.

> My stars-above, memories of our fantastic dance still warm me, but the sight of you so pale this morning had me spooked. As soon as I left you, I wanted nothing more than to turn back.
> 
> Looking at the maps spread out across my table, the maddening notes, ideas and considerations of your plan I realise that try as I might to accomplish your 'assignment', my thoughts are only for you.
> 
> Puzzling, dreaming, imagining, fearing; they control and consume me, as always.
> 
> Please tell me how you are - and be honest! In the meanwhile, alas, I'll be working through the day—perhaps even the night. My bed will be cold, so best avoid it 'til done.
> 
> Keep yours warm for me until we have our scheme. ⚝ 

Claude thought of yesterday morning.

Though he had been dog-tired when he left her, Claude wished he could have stayed with Byleth. Vomiting, nightmares, and looking so drained... Something didn't sit right with Claude about any of it, though he couldn't put his finger on what was bothering him. Unfortunately, he had been there longer than was decent. Had most of the night not been spent in-view of his _pasban_ (and, eventually, the inept Gatekeeper), the wider-world might have raised its collective eyebrow at them. He hoped people around camp would simply chalk up his midnight visit to the unsociable hours he preferred to keep, and not a compulsion to make love to the married archbishop.

His pulse hammered with a mix of clandestine memories.

Last night had been exceptional, even by their standards. Remembering the tang of Byleth's desire on his lips sent frissons through his body anew. 

Watching her writhe atop him. Peeling away that sheer silk number she wore to unveil her naked body. Illuminated by the dim candlelight. 

The knot of devotion tightening in his heart. 

The scorching flame in his stomach. 

The spark in his blood. 

The overwhelming hunger. 

Entwined, entangled and engorged in their crushing 'dance'—coming so hard that they forgot where they were.

Her response to his letter enflamed him all over again.

> I'm thinking of you, too, my golden-hart.
> 
> Slight nausea still phases me – but please don't worry about me! – I'm more worried about passing whatever it is onto you.
> 
> Ashe came by - (It seems your assumptions about Countess Rowe was correct!) and we discussed the matter of love over breakfast this morning. Despite my best efforts to advise him as his 'Professor', you never too far from my mind. 
> 
> It made me long for you all over again. Your scent is still on my pillow, lulling me back though its fading fast. I close my eyes and imagine your breath pushing words through your lips— the intonation of your voice and timbre of its sound—its sincerity scoring desire into my ear—the breeze of your life tickling my skin—how those lips—all of your body—pleasured me last night, and so many nights before—your arms encircling me and holding me close—all I long for is to feel your presence and hear your voice.
> 
> The world needs me to be so many things, but all I want is to be yours.
> 
> Please don't take too long. Once you've completed your task, I'll give you some well-deserved tea. ♡ 

Her letter seared his soul, reminding him of her pledge last night all over again. They reverberated through him like a bell, making his skin leap as though she was in the room with him now. 

_"You reach something inside me, no one else can."_

He hoped that was true. It echoed his own belief that they were meant to be together. Joined. Two parts of a single whole. Twinned flames burning within their souls. Bookends who are back-to-back, alike despite all the rules, guidelines and walls between them.

Claude had missed her all day.

The Almyran king began his brisk walk to the wyvern pit. 

His legs cried as he walked, cramped from hours of being crouched over his harried notes was a far cry from the warmth of Byleth's bed last night.

_I really hope she's being honest when she says she's feeling better._

It was too late (or early) to visit Byleth - or ask her to come to him now. Moreover, Claude had resolved only to go to her once he was ready to share 'The Plan'. But after hours of deliberation, pondering over the same points like a madman, he lacked the decisive push to tell her his idea.

_I just need to relax. Decompress._

The ride would help with that.

Jamilah was restless in her pen, seeming as agitated as Claude was. Scratching at the floor and batting her wings, the other wyverns hissed and growled at her for disturbing their rest.

 _She must have smelled me coming_ , Claude thought amusedly. "Stop sulking, old girl. I'm here."

She butted him lightly with her snout, demanding a pet.

"I know, I know," he whispered sweetly, assuaging her request. " _Tata_ was busy with one of his schemes." He began to saddle her, muttering of his woes in the same crib-talk voice. "His _Amuxa,_ his _delaxah,_ gave him some tough homework; it's driving _Tata_ out of his crafty little mind."

Jamilah snorted smoke at the mention of 'Amuxa', his Teach, and seemed offended that 'his heart's desire' wasn't her.

Claude rolled his eyes, leading the oversized lizard outside. 

Byleth was convinced Jamilah didn't like her. During a rendezvous on the Starry Terrace, she had noted the albino wyvern eyeing her moodily as Claude caressed her.

 _"I don't think she likes me,"_ Byleth said worriedly.

He had grinned, kissing her neck. 

_"_ _Don't take it personally. She's just a spoiled girl who doesn't like to share."_

A gleam crossed Byleth's eyes. 

_"_ _She doesn't like you riding anyone but her, huh?"_

_"Ha! Something like that."_

Rubbing Jamilah behind her horns, Claude said the same now as he did then. "Don't be like that, girl. You know I love you, too. Just in a _very_ different way."

Climbing on, he urged her to go.

"Around the campsite and the lake, Jami," he instructed quickly in their native tongue. The sky was too clear to go too high or further afield, lest they give away their position to an enemy. When the moon was full and bright, the light bounced off Jamilah like a mirror. "Don't go too close to the ravine."

Stretching her wings wide, Jamilah took to the skies. 

The early morning was beautiful. Quiet. Restful. It reminded Claude of his childhood when Jamilah was small enough to sit on his shoulder. They would ride his father's wyvern as he swooped about, trying to teach the hatchling how to fly. Very quickly after, she began to pick it up and started to fly beside them. Then, a year later, she was large enough to carry her young master.

Since then, Khalid never felt as peaceful as when he was a mile-high.

Jamilah climbed up, plunged down, banked left and right. Flexing the leathery membrane of her wings, she began to sing happily. In flights like these, Claude was just along for the ride. He was happy for his mount to soar and swirl about to her heart's content. Switching off his mind, he was only there to stop her from getting carried away and to steer her away from any danger should it arise. 

Below, Claude saw the glistening outline of Lake Awen, where he and Byleth had liaised in that little alcove the other day. His stomach curled - and back ached - sweetly at the memory.

A little further on, he heard the whooshing of Afanc Falls, nestled within Miach Forest, where they had made camp after tracking Jakob von Bergliez, the original belligerent of this conflict, and Dark Mages from the township of Gwydion to this point. He recalled how desperate he had been for Byleth's company during that time, but had been denied because of propriety. Within the safety of Garreg Mach's walls and hidden tunnels, Byleth had welcomed Claude's advances keenly. 

Out in the field, she was significantly more cautious.

 _"I want to,"_ she had pleaded through hitched breaths. _"But if we're caught--"_

_"I won't let them catch us."_

_"Claude, don't make this any harder than it already is."_ Byleth had barely dared to kiss his lips. _"I long for you every moment of every day. I want to scream in frustration that we can't speak openly with each other."_

 _"Why waste your breath screaming when we can do this?"_ he asked, taking her into his arms and returning her earlier kiss.

He was far less wary and felt somewhat validated when her resolve cracked a little. Deepening the embrace, her tongue had slipped into his mouth.

Still, she pulled away quickly after, much to Claude's disappointment.

 _"Life is short, By,"_ he groaned then. _"And the longer I wait, the less I care about being caught."_

It was only for decorum's sake Claude continued to elicit tricks and slights of hand to keep their affair a secret. For his part, Claude had come to a point where he was fully prepared to meet Dimitri face-to-face and tell him the truth. He was beyond the guilt and shame, he just wanted it to come out. The whole truth, or at least as much as Byleth would be willing to share as long as how they felt was out in the open.

He had had enough.

 _"I'm not frightened of Dimitri,"_ Claude had told Byleth frankly, and her eyes had been troubled as she replied.

_"I'm glad one of us isn't."_

The midnight sky was beginning to take on a more glaucous hue, making the trees of the woods below clearer. It brought back other memories of battles past - the ambush of Miach Forest. _That'_ battle' had not gone as smoothly as the one that followed at Gwalchmai's Mouth. 

It wasn't even a battle - they had stumbled right into a snare, and one he and Byleth later kicked themselves for not foreseeing. 

They had been too distracted by Count Bergliez's gangrenous body and the question of whether they should bring the body back to Gwydion, or press on to round-up the stragglers of his army. It had sidetracked them, so they were caught off-guard when the Dark Mages attacked suddenly that evening. 

The allied defensive line had been broken, and they had been scattered into two groups.

If ever Claude thought he might die in this war, it was then.

Under risk of potent magic and stray arrows, he had been forced to dismount Jamilah and fight on foot, lest she would have ended her life as a pincushion for arrows. 

It had been a long time since he had lacked the aerial view of a battlefield - he wondered how Byleth managed to direct troops so well without it!

He might have died ten times over during that struggle against the mages but, somehow, he survived and victory was secured. 

Byleth had been right beside him when they had killed the last of them who had failed to retreat into the darkness from which they came.

Claude had closed his eyes, thanking the god of fate for seeing them both through this attack.

 _"Are you alright--?"_ he had asked her.

Byleth had responded by grabbing his hand and dragging him further into the woods. He could still see the frenzy in her eyes when she looked at him, as though her life was passing before them. Mind hazy, Claude had followed like an obedient puppy. She could have led him to his death at that moment, and he wouldn't have noticed until he was coughing up blood. 

Once they were deep enough into the grove, Byleth had smothered him with kisses so powerful he would have toppled over had she not backed him against a tree. It was such a far cry from the nervous, stolen kisses of the past few weeks or so that Claude had practically devoured her in pent-up relief.

Then, she tugged at the knot of his belt.

 _"By...?"_ he muttered, questioningly.

 _"Make love to me,"_ Byleth had moaned into his mouth, kissing him over and over, arching her body into him. _"Please...?"_

His body had lurched at the invitation. 

_"Are you serious?!"_

_"Yes. Please!"_

What had happened to make his stars-above throw all caution to the wind? What possessed her? Making love in the middle of a flaming forest?! Literally, a forest aflame. Or rather, a 'smoking' forest, at that point. In the distance, some of the brushes had been set alight by blaze barrels and distressed wyverns who were not as lucky as Jamilah, only now starting to die down with the fall of rain. 

Either way, this was risky.

_"Byleth, are you sure--?"_

She tore at his regalia, adamantly rubbing herself against him. _"Kiss me. Take me. Hold me. I want to be yours alone. Right now."_

It had been against all reason and logic - but Claude hated common sense. It didn't matter that they were fresh off the battlefield and barely hidden by foliage.

He wasn't going to refuse. 

_There's a special place in Hell for men like me,_ he thought weakly. _Women like Byleth, too._ They were walking the path to Hell. But Hell would be a small price to pay in the next life if he could be with Byleth in this one.

He answered her plea. 

They flipped positions and tussled with the fabric that got in the way of their goal. Her touches and the fervour of her plight had Claude erect. Freed from his constraints, he had her flush against the tree. Gripping her thighs tightly, he passionately made love to her. Screeches erupted from Byleth's lungs, sounding magnificently bestial.

He could still feel Byleth's legs squeezed around him and her arms grasping his shoulders and hair, whispering how wonderful he was, how much she loved him and imploring him never to leave her — as if she feared he would disappear in a puff of smoke. 

Would their allies - or enemies - find them together like this? Tangled in this dangerous dance, their illicit, adulterous love on view to the world? 

They did not. The venue they had stumbled upon for this intrepid dalliance had been far enough removed from the overall chaos that none came upon them. Everything had been eerily silent beyond their own lewd noises of damp flesh and beckoning release. 

Her coo had been deep, low, and content.

_"I love you."_

Every time he heard those words, his heart hummed with conviction.

_"I love you, too."_

They had stayed pressed together against that firm oak. Claude had buried his face within the crook of Byleth's neck as she spread slow, happy kisses below his ear.

_"I'll never let anything happen to you. Never again."_

That had thrown him a little.

_Again...?_

_"What do you mean?"_ Claude managed to pant in response. _"I'm fine. I'm here... with you."_

He opened his eyes again and motioned Jamilah to begin her first round. It would take a few more laps before she would be satisfied.

A guilty part of Claude wished someone had caught them that day just to end the enforced secrecy. 

He dreaded the end of the war; it clouded his mind to a fatal degree. Once this conflict ended, so too did his reason for being in Fódlan. His debt to Byleth - the people of Fódlan - for their assistance against the final pretender to his title, his only sister, would be paid. He would have to leave, and Byleth would be Dimitri's again. 

So, he almost didn't want it to end, just to have a little longer with her. 

_It's why I just won't let this plan go._

'The world needs me to be so many things, but all I want is to be yours,' she says. 

And how often had Byleth justified her marriage to Dimitri because he 'needed' her? Need, need, need. As if he were an enemy fire-trap seconds from igniting and she alone could starve the flames before they blew up the whole kingdom! 

Claude was sorry for all Dimitri had been through... _but it's worse to live a lie._

"We should have always been together, Jami," Claude muttered, fully aware of how pettish it sounded. "At the Officers Academy, if she had chosen me instead... No one would have to get hurt." _No, stop dwelling on it_. What was the point? It was now that mattered. He had her heart, but on paper, it belonged to another. "I don't think I have the will to hide anymore."

The wyvern continued to sing, enjoying her flight and not even acknowledging her rider's utterances. 

They continued their sky dance, back and forth, over the captured land. In the distance, Claude could see the valley of Gwalchmai Ravine, the venue for Byleth's final stand against the mages.

_For the good of all, this conflict has to end._

Claude knew he had to speak to Byleth about all of this - how-to bait the mages, and what they should do once their one excuse to be together was resolved. 

Heart-racing, Jamilah looped around triumphantly as she entered her final circuit of the camp.

Gazing upwards at the stars, Claude tried once again to trace the outline of his mother's _straum_. Girlaspa was on the Almyran emblem, being the mighty mount of Arash. Those born under that collection of stars named for the dread-horse were thought to be forces of nature - adventurous and wild, independent and proud, bad-tempered and exuberant, and above-all _brave_. Though the maid of Riegan had not been born under an Almyran sky, the queen she became embodied her star-sign well. Claude did not believe the stars themselves made a person who they were, but if he could share anything with his mother, it would be her fearlessness.

_And her willingness to fight for love._

He returned Jamilah to her pen; she was now in a calmer mood and ready for a doze. 

"An excellent notion, Jami," he said, through a yawn.

He was ready for a nap himself - but not before a wash, and letting his scheme for the upcoming battle go. 

_It's time to talk to Byleth._

Claude made his way back to his tent.

He greeted Wallace again before asking him to "hold tight for that letter".

Striding back into his quarters, Claude lit a few more candles. He blinked his dry eyes and slipped back into his chair. Sitting alone at his little desk, Claude resolved to write the note. It could probably have held until sunrise, but he didn't want to leave it any longer and risk any further hesitation.

Grabbing the small sheet of paper, his quickly moving hand wrote.

> Come to me as soon as possible.  
>  I want to talk with you.  
>  Let's have tea and go over the plan.  
>  ♡

Double-sealing it with wax and a kiss, Claude etched his enchanted _toghra_ and quickly went back outside. He practically threw Wallace the letter, he was so desperate for it to be out of his hands.

"Here we go! Deliver this to Lady Byleth," Claude ordered. "Let no one see it but her."

The guard deposited the tiny scroll into his pouch and nodded. "At once, Your Royal Excellency."

Stumbling back inside his tent, Claude kicked off his boots and loosed his belt to remove his clothes. Washing the grime from a long day's work with lavender and chamomile oil had been immensely satisfying as well as soothing before bed.

He felt 'civilised' again.

 _I won't get much sleep_ , he granted. _But even an hour or two on a mattress rather than at a desk is just what I need._

Throwing on a loose-fitting shirt and trousers, he shuffled towards his bed. Falling face-first onto it, he breathed a sigh of relief. The softness felt good against his cramped muscles, the furs cosy and warm upon his skin, and the weak flicker of the candles on his desk eased him towards a very welcome slumber.

At last, Claude slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ##### Translations of High Almyran words
> 
> ###### Chapter 1: Song of the Wyvern
> 
>   
>  **shah sharan** (Simplified), or _xsah xsahran_ translates as 'King of all King's' or 'Kings' King'. Based very much on the real-life 'Shahanshah', which means the same.  
>  **marzpahn** is a noble rank in Almyra, approximate to a 'Margrave'-rank in Fódlan. Based literally on the Middle Persian equivalent to a Marquis or Marcher-lord, which is what margraves are.  
> The **Yúdhyatahm** are the 'aristocracy'. Similar to the Achaemenid Empire, Almyran society breaks people into three social classes: the Yudhyatahm ("the ones who make war") who are the warriors/nobility; the Xodatam ("the ones who keep God") who are the Priesthood; and finally the Herehshum ("the ones who plough") who are the land-workers/commoners.  
>  **Arashnahm** , or **House Arash** , is the ruling family of Almyra and Claude's family.  
>  **Ahmixtan** is a (derogatory) term for people of mixed ethnicity, with Fódlan blood in particular.  
>  **janob'e-ahli** translates as 'Highest (or Royal) Excellency'.  
>  **Rota** is actually a Fódlan term for Archbishop's seal. Inspired by the real-life papal signature.  
>  **Toghra** is the Xsahxsahran seal, inspired by the calligraphic signature used by the Ottoman sultans, the Tughra.  
>  **straum** translate to 'constellation'. It refers to the star signs that each 'cycle' is assigned. The calendar used is based on something I came up with for a personal project, similar to these translations/words, and adapted into this fic.  
>  **Tata** is a short and affectionate shortening of **pahtar** which translates to 'father'.  
>  **Del a _xah_** translates to "heart's _desire_ ".  
>  **Amuxa** is short for 'hamuxgah', which means 'teacher'.  
> 
> 
> ##### Author's note
> 
> Thank you for reading this far.
> 
>  **Update (17/12/2020)**  
>  Thank you for reading this far. I made a big ol' [Author's Update](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131918) for the current 'State of Affairs', but don't worry. I will update as soon as possible.


	2. The Final Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth talk about their relationship.

☽

Claude awoke from a dreamless sleep.

Though his nerves still ached from his dire resolution, overall, he felt calmer. His ride with Jamilah had clearly done the trick as he was less tense than when he finally collapsed upon his bed. Closing his eyes again, he thought to doze a few minutes longer before getting up.

But then he heard movement – someone had entered his tent. Claude's eyes opened a pinch, and he listened carefully. Thanks to a childhood of torment from elder brothers and cousins, Claude had learned the benefits of being a light sleeper. 

Mercifully, the form that came into his view was a far more welcoming sight.

"Hard at work, I see?" said Byleth, smiling.

Claude gazed up at her with bleary eyes.

_ Should I say something now, or work up to it?  _

Seeing her brought a wash of thoughts to his mind. Last night, he had resolved to do two things - end this conflict with Edelgard's dark mages, and come clean to Byleth's husband about their relationship. It was easy to decide to himself that he wanted everything to come out - it was another to voice those desires to Byleth, and urge her to be on board with them. After all this time, a part of Claude dreaded that she would refuse outright, and fear of that stung. It wasn't that he doubted her love; it was worry that her 'sense of duty' was too strong for her to buckle, that she would see maintaining the lie as the path of least resistance. Byleth had once told Claude, many years ago, on the night he left Derdriu that,  _ "Dimitri's always needed my help more than anyone." _ Those words had made Claude angry even then. 

He couldn't deny that Dimitri's attitude had remarkably improved in no small part due to Byleth. She had brought him back from the bridge of insanity and transformed him from a savage storm into the 'Saviour King'. But, the idea that Dimitri inherently 'deserved' Byleth because he "needed her the most" bristled Claude; like a cat stroked the wrong way, it made him want to strike out with his claws and hiss. 

"What's wrong?" Byleth spoke, face now twisted in concern.

Claude flinched a little. 

"Why do you think something's wrong?" 

"You aren't smiling," she replied, sweetly stroking his cheek. "You always smile, even when you aren't happy."

_ Idiot!  _ he scolded himself.  _ I've been lying here staring at her for an unnerving amount of time. Of course, she knows something is wrong.  _

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groaned.

"Sorry, By. I'm just... still half-asleep. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine - and don't deflect! Are you sure that's all?" she urged, sitting beside him on the bed.

_ No, it's not. _

Claude did not want to launch into a tirade about his plan nor his desire to come clean to Dimitri. He had to build up to it. So, he forced a smile and nodded. 

"For the time being, yes. Right now, though?" 

Claude reached out for her, running a hand down Byleth's arm and along her leg. He could feel her shiver of delight. 

"I'm just happy to see you."

At last, she smiled again. 

"You too," and she pecked him on the forehead.

Stretching his arms, Claude felt more awake.

"Wait, how did you get passed my guard?" he asked. Not too long ago, Byleth feared reproach so much that she wouldn't have dared enter his quarters, let alone perch on the edge of his bed and kiss him. "Where's Wallace?"

"I read your little note straight away, and I followed him back here," Byleth shrugged. "He seems used to me now, and you were expecting me. So, he let me straight in."

Claude scratched his head. "Wow, have I only been asleep for half-an-hour or so?"

"No – I was bathing when he arrived."

"Bathing, huh?"

Imagining a naked Byleth was a joy in itself without throwing water into the equation. The delight of her damp flesh against his own was one he had not fully experienced; closest they ever got to it was the other day in the cave—that, and at the bathhouse in Almyra. Even then, they had been appropriately separated by a stone wall with a crack in the middle. Large enough for voices to pass through, but not peek. Funnily, they had managed to iron out better terms for the peace treaty between Fódlan and Almyra during those nightly discussions than they ever did in the council room with diplomats encircling them.

"Yes, bathing. I offered Wallace tea while he waited for me to finish."

Claude stifled a snigger.  _ Ah, 'Tea'!  _ Their code word for sex, and a pun he couldn't help evoking. 

"Bath  _ and  _ tea, hm?" he said, stroking a finger along her thigh. "I hope you didn't share any of our 'special blend' with him, By."

Byleth gave him a playful tap.

"Very funny."

"Not really." Hooking his arm around her waist, he pulled himself up to whisper in her ear. "There are a few things sacred in this world. Our tea times is one of them."

He nibbled her lobe for good measure.

"Hmph, clearly there's nothing wrong with you," she huffed, leaning into him. "You're especially frisky this morning."

"Hm, you might say I'm 'thirsty'."

"Oh dear, shall I fetch you some water?"

"I'd prefer that tea you promised me."

"Milk this gag any further, and I'll march right back out of here."

"Who says I'm not serious?"

"Claude!" she bleated, with one of her infrequent giggles. 

With one last kiss behind her ear, Claude flopped back against his pillows. 

"Spoilsport," he mumbled.

Byleth loomed above him, her hand coming to rest against his abdomen. The fires of love and desire burst through him. 

"Joking apart, I hear you worked non-stop yesterday," she said lowly. "I missed you all day."

Taking hold of her wrist, he began to pepper her hand with kisses.

"The feeling is mutual, my stars-above. Though your little letter certainly perked me up."

"Really?" Byleth bit her bottom lip. "It wasn't my most eloquent writing."

"Au contraire, it's always wonderful to know how much you..." he smirked, " _ Long  _ for me."

Their lips met, and they kissed languidly, deliberately...

_ Gods let us stay like this forever. _

Byleth broke contact, smiling coyly. "Every word was true."

_ 'The world needs me to be so many things, but all I want is to be yours.' _

Claude certainly hoped that was true...

She shifted, as though to pull away from him, but Claude recaptured her shoulders.

He kissed her harder.  _ Deeper.  _ He wanted to do it until their lips were sore. 

Byleth responded in kind - quivering beneath his hold...

"Hm, Claude--?"

_ "Shh..."  _ They kissed again. "I didn't get to properly say goodbye yesterday."

"Hmm that's sweet," Byleth gasped, "But this is--" His mouth lured her back into another kiss,  _ "--Claude--!" _ she moaned, " But seriously, I'm going to--"  _ another  _ kiss , "--lose my balance-- _ agh! _ "

Her shaking arms gave out.

_ "Oof!"  _ Claude cried out, half-surprised, half-laughing as she landed on top of him.

"I tried to warn you!" Byleth muttered, hair covering her face. They cuddled closer to each other, side by side, chest to chest.

Snickering, Claude pushed her fringe out of her eyes. 

"It's not my fault that your lips are so delectable."

Resting her hand on his hip, Byleth sighed.

"If you have time for  _ this _ ," and she kissed him again, "you really must be done and dusted with the plan for the next march! We should call Ashe and Leonie in here right now so we can brief them immediately."

The King of Almyra rested his arms behind his head with a huff.

"Would that were the case," he grumbled. "Weaving a troop manoeuvre all day yesterday damn near drove me mad. Am I not allowed a single moment of respite, my stars-above? A second of sweet relief with my lady love?!" 

Byleth kissed him again.

"I'm teasing."

"I thought we weren't allowed to tease each other anymore?"

"When did we agree that?"

"The other night."

Her cheeks turned pink. "That's different."

"What's good for the gander is good for the goose, my stars-above," Claude chuckled.

Byleth hooked her leg over his. "I didn't want you to think I was using you."

"So what if you were?" His hand swiftly found her knee again, fingers tracing the floral pattern of her stockings. "Doesn't mean I'll curse your name for eternity. I'm a king and, apparently, a 'Master Tactician'.  _ I'm  _ useful. Even if I get pissed off in the heat of the moment, I won't hold it against you in the long run."

His touches teetered dangerously close to the top of her thigh, making her tremble.

"You promise?"

"I do," he purred. "I beg but one boon, my stars...  _ Agh _ , actually,  _ two  _ boons."

Byleth's eyes flickered, "What are they?"

"First and foremost, that I can continue to tease you with amorous lustre."

A beautiful gleam flickered in her eyes.

"I suppose that's a price I have to pay. Now I've scratched your back, I must wait for you to scratch mine?" Byleth breathed with contentment.

"You make it sound so insidious, By," he responded zestfully, tugging her leg tighter around him. "If anything, I owe you a hearty debt: there's your strategic genius, your prowess on the battlefield, your integral part to the trade and peace agreement between our two kingdoms." A deep sigh escaped his chest. "Frankly, I'll be lucky to have any skin left on my back by the time you've finished scratching it."

"Is that so?" Byleth remarked coquettishly. "I thought you liked a bit of scratching now and then."

Claude chortled, smothering her lips again. "Now, now, get your mind out of the gutter, my sweet star. Believe it or not, I'm attempting to be serious here."

"That makes a change."

_ "Teach." _

A tiny titter caught in her nose.

"Sorry." Byleth's hand cupped his cheek, delicate as a dove. "What was the second boon?"

Now Claude had Byleth's attention, he didn't know where to start. Would she really appreciate knowing how much conflict being an illicit lover caused in his mind and heart? Would it even be a surprise to her? Even lying there, side by side and twisted around each other, Claude feared that with the oncoming end to this conflict, Byleth was already preparing to let him go in her heart. 

Come victory, the status quo would be restored. Claude would go back to Almyra, and Byleth would return to Dimitri.

_ Ugh, I'm overthinking this... _

Claude's mind always seemed to be murmuring, never stopping. Aching for knowledge beyond his reach; schemes came too fast for him to write them down; and thinking of the love that flowed through him. It had such power over him, it felt as vital to his existence as blood and air.

"I want to be honest with you," he began, slowly.

Claude's thumb continued to rub circles between the gaps in her tights, using the motion to keep him grounded in that moment. 

Byleth nodded, starting to look tense, "I... I want you to be honest with me, too."

"That's good..."

_ This is hard. _

As much as he sought honesty, it hurt to confess how miserable he felt about their situation. How much resentment he felt towards Dimitri.

"You know I live for my dreams," he resumed, "- and the more time goes on, the emptier those dreams become without you." He kissed her for impact, leaving behind a faint smile on her lips. "More than anything, I want to be as much a fixture in your world as you are in mine. I wish..."

Claude's voice trailed off.

_ I want to be open, but what will she say when I say what I want to do...? _

"Gah, I'm babbling!" Claude grumbled, face half-buried in his pillow.

Eyes glistening like opals, Byleth proffered her hand, which he took. 

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to...?" she said kindly.

Claude pouted.

"You don't want to know?"

"Of course I do."

"But you won't even fight me for the knowledge?"

Byleth kissed the tip of his nose sweetly. "Claude, trying to get you to admit  _ anything  _ is a fight in itself!" 

_ Hah!  _

She had him there.

Somehow, her playfulness eased some of the tension knotted inside him. Still, he was quiet - thinking of how to say what he wanted without deflecting or undermining it with a joke.

"I wish I knew half the things that go on in your head," Byleth remarked.

He looped her braid around his finger; she had grown out her hair and adopted two side plaits since becoming the archbishop.

"How often have I thought the same about you?" Claude pondered aloud.

Byleth snuggled closer to him. Nose to nose, her voice was a soft whisper. "What do you want to know then?"

She sounded so earnest, her statement knocked the words out of Claude's brain:

"What do we do when this is all over?"

Byleth tilted her head into his pillow. "This battle, you mean?"

"This  campaign ," he clarified. "Sure, there'll be some clean-up and admin to deal with once we're out of the field. But, if this next battle really ends up being the final, final one. Finally, then it'll be time for me to return to Almyra."

A tiny whimper choked in Byleth's windpipe.  "I... Yes, I know."

"I  _ am  _ the king, after all," Claude chuckled sadly, trying to inject some levity into his voice, and failing. "Almyra is hardly a paragon of peace and stability. And, well, you've met my mother. She's not quite as genial as me when it comes to diplomacy. I can't leave her in charge forever."

"I know," Byleth croaked.

All her earlier playfulness was gone. It was enough for Claude to wonder if he should have kept his mouth shut until later. Until after this battle was over, even.

_ But this is driving me insane,  _ he reasoned to himself.  _ I can't go into this next battle without knowing where Byleth stands. I need to know. _

The topic had been danced around for too long.

Byleth buried her face in his shoulder, dragging Claude from his thoughts.

"By...?"

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "It's just... I was thinking about this, too. Yesterday, when I was talking to Ashe, it was all I could think about. How I... I feel as though I'm in prison."

Claude groaned.

"By, I'm sorry," he faltered, pressing a kiss into her hair, immediately backpedalling despite his earlier conviction. "Maybe this  _ isn't  _ the time to talk about this." He forced out a laugh, "Heck, we actually have to  _ beat  _ these guys first."

Glancing at him from beneath her bangs, Byleth cracked a smile. Pulling him into a hug, she sighed. Her breath susurrate, rustling in his ears like wind through the trees. Sweet, calming, relaxing... Claude could forget all his troubles in moments like this.

"You say I've done so much for you," she spoke meekly. "But  _ you've  _ already done so much - taken so many risks - for me. And I don't deserve it."

She sounded defeated, resigned to their inevitable separation.

A sharp, fearful jolt shot through Claude then as he realised how his blathering up until now could have been read.

_ Wait, she doesn't think I'm--?! _

"Um, By," he spoke quickly. "Everything I just said--I didn't mean what I said like a--a break-up or an end to  _ us  _ or anything like that. That's not what I'm getting at--!"

_ Though that would be the sensible thing to do. _

Byleth kissed him, trembling with emotion. 

"But it will be, won't it? Just like last time."

Neither Claude nor Byleth had planned this. The core of what they had now was birthed from a  _ "moment of weakness".  _ Before that Claude had long resigned to hiding his feelings away. When she married Dimitri, Claude's heart had flared with distress - but he resolved to never let those feelings get in the way of his aims. He was taught to be self-reliant and independent - so, he would not surrender to sadness. 

Instead, he would find a bright-side.

When Claude left Fódlan, he had always envisioned returning one day. After all, if he was ever going to bust open Fódlan's Locket and foster peace between his two bloodlines, an alliance with Dimitri was necessary - and, as much as it hurt, Teach's position as the queen-consort  _ and  _ the archbishop was a gift politically. The first step to promoting cultural harmony was showing the Almyrans that the Fódlans were not  _ daeva _ -worshipping cowards and the Fódlans that Almyrans would not scalp them on sight. Who better to demonstrate that than the Ashen Demon-head of the Church-wife of the reigning monarch? Claude - or rather, Shahzahd Khalid - knew that his father's people would be as much in awe of her skills as the Fódlean were. 

She was the perfect ambassador to bridge the gap.

'Khalid' told himself that he could swallow 'Claude's' romantic love and passionate desires for her to serve the greater good, for the sake of the lofty chimaeras that he clung so desperately to. He could do it! He would love her in eternal silence. For the greater good!

...At least, he thought so - until he learned those desires were reciprocated. 

That fateful evening after they had all drunk too much red wine and Byleth had stumbled out into the gardens of  _ Almariyyah _ , seeming so distraught.

One tempestuous, uninhibited kiss later Byleth had confessed all.

_ "I think about holding you--kissing you--being with you--what it would be like. Even just once."  _

Had it been anyone but Teach, Claude would have taken it for a joke, but her face grimaced in guilt and want. Had she not been clinging to his jacket frantically, he might have thought he was dreaming. 

But she embraced him so tightly.

_ "I know--I'm married, but all I can think about is you." _

They hadn't made love that night, but Claude had been drunk himself enough to admit the feelings he thought would remain secret for the rest of his life.

_ "You're married, yes, but - gods save me - you need only say the word... I don't think I have the strength to say no. Otherwise, just--pretend as though nothing happened. Because I will. I'm not as proud as some, but I won't beg you either. You have to come to me." _

A final kiss pressed against her forehead.

_ "And when you do, be sober." _

Tipsy they might have been that night, but not so much to forget the confession. Claude might have stayed silent forever, but Byleth's admission had opened the Mashyana's jar within his heart. The taste of her lips had been like taking a bite from Embla's apple - and the knowledge could not be forgotten. It had been the death of innocence, and everything had spiralled off from there. 

By the time Byleth left Almyra, after the sinful deed was done, letting her go had been akin to torture. 

Claude clung her harder, still trying to work up the courage to his next request. 

"I can't do it again, By," he professed. "Not this time."

Byleth whimpered. "I-I don't think I can either..."

Rolling onto her back, Byleth pulled him on top of her. She kissed him hungrily. Claude could feel his hands shaking as he tore away her cloak and dress to nuzzle her bare neck and shoulder. Byleth followed suit, practically ripping his thin shirt aside to reach his chest.

"Tell me what to do!" she begged.

"Tell  _ you  _ what to do?" he puffed uncertainly.  _ How about leaving Fódlan and running away with me?  _

Claude was half-serious, almost saying the words aloud. It's what his mother had done, after all. Emerging as Rhoxana in the east, she dropped her mask of gentility and became _"_ _ daevashahbanu _ _"_ \- the Demon Queen, lawful wife to Dariush, the King of the Almyrans. Nevertheless, Tiana von Riegan was not already married nor an archbishop. She wasn't even her father's heir. Godfrey was healthy as a horse and could still have had children. No one depended on Claude's mother for anything except to be an entertaining guest at vacuous soirees. Nothing  _ vital  _ was lost to Leicester when Tiana disappeared off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. 

Byleth was Fódlan's keystone. A crucial cog in its support system - the Church of Seiros. Dimitri might rule as the king, but the Church still held sway over his people and kingdom. Moreover, without Byleth, Dimitri might well have died, mad and alone, on the fields of Gronder...

A sad thought, despite all the resentment Claude felt towards love-rival. He wanted Byleth, but he didn't wish Dimitri harm. Claude just wanted to be  _ free _ . _ 'The world needs me to be so many things, but all I want is to be yours.'  _ Those had been Byleth's words, but they could just as well have been Claude's own.

Stroking her hair, he decided it was time.

"Do you love me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"More than anyone?"

"Yes," Byleth beamed. Then, clearly sensing Claude's ultimate paranoia, she squeezed his forearms and added, "I... I didn't know I _could_ love someone so much, until you."

Neither had he.

"And you'll love me no matter what happens?" Claude pressed.

Byleth stared at him questioningly. "Yes. But... You aren't planning on doing anything reckless, are you?"

"Reckless? Me?" 

Joking aside, he was determined after that. Leaning over Byleth, resting his elbows either side of her head, a heavy sigh escaping his lungs as it finally, _finally_ came out --

"By, I want you to tell Dimitri the truth."

Byleth's eyes widened, her anxiety was palpable.

"He'll kill you," she spoke plainly.

"I'd like to see him try," Claude replied plainly, no hint of humour. 

"I'm serious!"

"Do you see _me_ joking?"

_ "Mehrbahn, Khal." _

It felt strange to hear Almyran words coming from Byleth. Her pronunciation was off and she often mixed up her tenses, but there was something indescribably moving about her earnest attempts.

Khalid was fluent in Fódlean and the  _ koine-glótta _ . Even before he came to Fódlan, he had trained himself to think, write and speak confidently in its language. The majority of his peers did not understand it, and while it opened him up to further beatings, it proved a useful tool for hiding his schemes. To them, the alphabet looked like meaningless scribbles, and it sounded like whispy curses when spoken. They thought Khalid's demon-witch mother had taught him evil spells when all he was doing was calling them  _ "dingbats"  _ and  _ "thick-headed morons" _ . 

Then, when he came to Fódlan, the opposite happened. Claude dared not even utter a single word in High Almyran lest people immediately peg him as an outsider. His grandfather told him to never, ever, no matter what, write or speak in  _ "that damned language". _ Gram Oswald hadn't meant it to be cruel - it was a warning that any doubt over Claude's 'breeding' would be used as slings and arrows to tear him down. 

So, when he heard Byleth - the supposed-Goddess's avatar - babble out High Almyran phrases, it felt as though the cycle of misunderstanding between their two nations was broken. His first language was not a freakish thing; merely another way of speaking.

_ "Mehrbahn'i, eshta'mi," _ Claude assured her at last. "Believe it or not, I'm  _ still  _ not scared of Dimitri or what he might do to me. There's nothing I've seen in him that I can term as unpredictable."

Byleth scoffed.

"Oh! Your husband can be erratic," Claude clarified. "But that's not the same thing. There has always been method in his 'madness', and there's only so many directions a raging bull can charge."

"There's only so many directions you can run, too."

He shook his head.

"I'm more concerned about how frightened  _ you  _ seem to be of him," he stated plainly.

Byleth bit her top-lip.

"He's never laid a finger on me," she began provisionally. "Never."

"But?"

"But... Well, I've seen him do awful things to other people," she confessed. Her eyes gazed off to the side, limpid tears forming. Byleth seldom cried, was rarely so emotional, so seeing her on the verge of doing so unnerved him. "When Dimitri's blood is up," she went on, "No one can control him. Even now, when he's in battle, he dehumanises his foe. That's how he can stomach the things he does to them."

Peeking up at Claude, Byleth's breath shook.

"I've had nightmares about what he might do to you if he knew. They make me sick. It's why I was sick yesterday." That confession gave Claude pause.  _ Was that really all that caused it?  _ It was still bothering him. "For a long time, Dimitri lived only to avenge the dead. Now, he lives to destroy anyone who threatens his belief in harmony and peace."

"Ha!" Claude scoffed. "You know him better than me but - really? Would he  _ really  _ start another war over something like this? His Royal 'Peace-is-Perfect' Majesty?"

"I don't know," Byleth quivered out. "That's what bothers me. If it were anyone other than you..."

Claude didn't even need to guess what she meant by that. Dimitri was no schemer, but he was shrewd enough to query any action Claude made as a potential plot. From a twisted, disingenuous mindset, Claude knew that his relationship with Byleth might be perceived as a ploy to undermine the Faerghusian king and the Church of Seiros.

Holding her close, Claude dabbled kisses and promises against Byleth's ear. 

"I love you. I don't want you to be scared. But I mean what I say - I can't live like this anymore. I can't  _ lie _ ."

"I can't either," she cried, clinging him faster. "I can't. _I can't._ " 

"By..."

Sure enough, salt tears started to fall.

"I... I've made such a mess of my life, Claude," she sniffed. "Of all our lives. I could have prevented it all. If I'd used all my power or understood my own feelings." She vigorously tried to dry her eyes with her hands, almost clawing at her face in frustration. "If I wasn't  _ me _ . A freak--!"

_ "By!" _

Cupping her cheek, Claude tried to catch her tears with his thumb. 

"I love you," she hiccuped. "I do. But... Even if I tell Dimitri, even if we tell the truth - how am I any better for you than I was for him?!"

His heart stuttered.

"By, don't say such--"

_ **"Ahem!"** _

Claude let out a curse.

Byleth barely suppressed a scream. 

Startled, they instinctively clung to one another as they looked over towards the source of the third-party.

There stood Nader.

Claude's heart settled a tad. If  _ anyone  _ in the world could have walked in and found them like this, Nader was probably the least destructive. Still, Claude was very conscious of the intimate scene his old tutor had just witnessed, too. In his darkest imaginings of their relationship being discovered, Claude had always envisioned them utterly compromised. Naked abed, or even amid sex. The image of them shamed before the world, with only bed furs and one another's bodies to hide their decency, and scorching with embarrassment was ingrained in his brain.

Somehow, the reality felt more an intrusion. Being bare before a third party amid physical sin seemed preferable than the idea of his - and Byleth's - fear and pain and  _ misery  _ having been overheard. 

Even by Nader.

"Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace," the _spahbad_ addressed Byleth, speaking as though he had stumbled into a merry little tea party. "I saw you pop in here and hoped to... beg a few words with you both. But, _you_ are clearly in need of him, so it can wait."

He wore a faint smile, but his tone was mirthless. 

All that passed Byleth's lips was a weak gasp, burning Claude's ear.

"Nader," the king barked, uncharacteristically authoritative.

"Excellency," Nader replied passively.

" _ I  _ will speak with you  _ now _ ."

"Are you sure?"

"Wait outside."

The elder general quickly bowed his head and turned to leave, giving Byleth little more than a small, lingering glance. It was only once the crunch of his footsteps on the grass faded that Byleth seemed to remember how to breathe again. 

A loud exhale erupted from her, but she couldn't bring herself to look up from his chest, keeping her face firmly buried.

Claude stroked her hair, speaking as though trying to coax out a frightened hind. "By, he's gone. By...?"

She took an unsteady breath, finally glancing up at him.

"Now what?" Byleth squeaked. "How long was he standing there, do you think? How much did he...?"

Nader was no voyeur, though Claude suspected his old mentor had picked his moment carefully. 

_ He came in here fully aware of what he might find _ , Claude imagined. 

"We were lying in bed together. Clothed but close. I don't think Nader had to see much to get the picture."

"I know that! But how much did he, um," and Byleth clung tighter to his shirt, "hear of what we said?"

He laughed darkly. "I have no idea, my stars-above. It doesn't matter, though - I'll make sure he never does it again. Now, come on."

Shyly, Byleth took his hand as he helped her off the bed. 

"I need to get dressed," Claude announced. "I'm a fairly laid back ruler, but I don't really want my people to see me in my slacks."

A nervous chuckle escaped her as she looked around the room for his clothes. "I'll help you."

Together, they quietly got him dressed. Neither knew what to say. Their relationship had been etched with the fear of being discovered - it was almost an added thrill. Claude had challenged her to imagine it a few times while in the thralls of love when dangerous suggestions sounded like harmless fun. To visualise the looks on some people's faces if they could see her, the 'Holy Archbishop', writhing in delight beneath the 'Heretic King' had seemed appealing while riding high on euphoria.

Caught while bearing their souls had been so much more violating.

Once he was decent, Claude broke their silence.

"Wait while I speak with Nader, By."

"What will you say to him?"

"Depends on what he wants to talk about."

"But--!"

"' _ What will I say about us'? _ " he finished for her, unnervingly calm. "Knowing Nader, he probably finds the whole thing funny."

At that, he cupped her cheek softly, hoping his reassuring smile would convince her that he could fix this with just a wag of his tongue.

"He won't betray me," Claude assured her before placing another lingering kiss on her lips. "I can promise you that. If there's one person I trust outside this tent right now, it's him."

Her hands rested on his shoulders. "Nader... He didn't look surprised to see us together."

"No. It seems my suspicions were correct." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Claude took a deep whoosh of breath. "Just stay calm. I'll talk to him."

Byleth wrapped her arms around his neck, quavering, betraying her nerves. Claude had to fight to keep from quaking too - it was so strange to see and  _ feel  _ the almighty Teach so scared. 

"Should I leave?" she asked.

"No, stay here. We still have to draw up the final battle manoeuvres, after all."

Byleth looked up at him, eyes flickering. It seemed she had only just remembered why she had come to Claude this morning in the first place.

"Of course..."

He smiled despite himself.

Lifting her chin to look in her eyes, he kissed her lips one last time. Unnerved as she was, Byleth accepted the gift gladly. 

"Don't take too long."

"I won't."

It pained him to slip out of her hold and turn away - but he managed. Glancing over his shoulder, he winked.

"Start a pot of tea. This won't take long."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ##### Translations of High Almyran words
> 
> ###### Chapter 2: The Final Respite
> 
>   
>  **Mehrbahn** and **Mehrbahn'i** translates as "promise"/"swear" and "promise without number/"absolutely swear" respectfully. Mehr was the first to ascend to the yazatanre ( i.e. angels, or minor gods worthy of worship), in Almyran culture and 'bahn' means "oath". In the founding myth, Mehr is associated with justice, law and above all oaths. Adding "'i" at the end makes it an indefinite article - so, it's like saying "Absolutely promise me" or "I promise without any reservations". Somewhat inspired by the real-world Persian word for 'kind' and 'gracious' - "mehrabân" though in actuality I was more influenced by the real-life figure of Mithra and the reconstructed word "beyd" = influencing the Sankrit word "bā́dhate" (trust, compel).  
>  **Mashyana** is the Zoroastrian first woman while **Embla** is the Norse mythological first woman. I imagine Mashyana/Embla to be synonymous within the FE3H world. I took some artistic license with the legends, though. For example, Claude's references to 'Mashyana's Jar' is a nod to Pandora's Jar (or 'Box') while Embla's Apple is a reference to the apple from the Tree of Knowledge that Eve gave to Adam.  
>  **daeva** is like a demon or 'gods to be avoided'. Hence, Claude's mother's nickname of **daeva shahbanu** = "demon queen".  
>  **spahbad** is a noble/military rank in Almyra, approximate to a 'Count'-rank or 'Commander' in Fódlan.
> 
> ##### Author's note
> 
>  **Update (23/12/2020)**  
>  I want to thank everyone who commented to show support on this fic and my update above. I can confirm my 'exodus' from FF.Net is more or less complete and I couldn't feel better!  
> So, Chapter 2 of this fic is now up and is somewhat of a game-changer. It's also likely going to be my last update before Christmas. I'll do my best to get one last chapter up before the year is out but 3 will be very difficult to edit, so it'll most likely be in the New Year. Happy New Year in advance! ♡


	3. Hard Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude confronts Nader.

☽

Stepping outside, Claude's eyes were drawn to the sky above. The usual azure heavens were instead covered by a thick layer of cinereous clouds, blockading the dawn. He suspected that if one were to reach up and peep behind the sheet of grey vapours, they would find an ominous red sun lurking.

_ Hopefully, only sailors and shepherds need to take warning. _

He felt like he was carrying his stomach in his knees, and his heart juddered at a rapid and painful rate. 

For so long, the situation between Byleth and himself had been bubbling beneath the surface. Her kisses and love and the sex had all made it easier to bury his dread and focus only on the joy. Like a frog in a burning cauldron, he knew the sensible thing would be to jump out -- but he had got too used to the ever-growing danger surrounding them. His morning ride had given him clarity and that discussion in his bed had been comfortingly candid. 

Once more, Byleth had opened up, too. While she had become more emotional over the years, she was still a woman of few words and fewer expressions. But today, she displayed a level of panic and dread that Claude had scarcely ever seen from her. It was both awful and wonderful; seeing their tension was shared, and her tears of fear for him. Everything - their desperation, desire and love - was so crushingly absolute that laying it all bare had felt as intimate as when he was buried deep inside her. 

_ Why now, Nader? Why the  fuck now?  _ he cursed inwardly. 

The Almyran king spotted his quarry sitting alone, building a small fire a respectable distance from the nearest circle of men. Nader was typically the world's welcome wagon, ready to share hearth, home and coffee with any passing soldier. Yet this preliminary flame looked deliberately antisocial, a titchy thing that signalled to the world:  _ "I am not open for business." _

That suited Claude just fine. He did not intend to stay long -- he wanted to get back to Byleth, to finish their conversation.

As he began to walk over, Claude spied Rifat and Zaki, 'proud' members of his  _ hazahran-pasban  _ and Wallace's relief that morning. Seeing them yawn gapingly and guzzling coffee, irritated the shah in him. 

_ These men are the most elite bow wielders in the kingdom, fearless and resolute in defending their leader in battle _ , he thought spitefully.  _ Yet they allowed someone to just barge right into my tent when I'm prone. Asleep for all they knew! _

He charged towards them. 

Seeing his approach, both men scrambled to their feet and bowed.

_ "Subah'kelyah, janob'e-ahli!"  _ they addressed him, voices unharmonious.

Claude glared, ready to unleash all the negativity inside him on the two, saving none for Nader.

The pair looked at each other, both confused and a shade paler. It was abnormal for the  _ shah  _ to lose his temper.

"Didn't you tell the  _ spahbad  _ I was with the archbishop?" he spoke in the  _ koine-glótta  _ through gritted teeth. 

"Well, it was Nader..." Zaki quivered out. "He said he wished to speak with  _ ashibanu-ahliah _ ..." 

"And Wallace allowed the archbishop in without a formal announcement," Rifat added, defensively, parcelling some blame onto the night-guard. "W-With respect, Your Royal Highness, you are usually happy to receive Nader unannounced, Your Exalted  _ Excellency _ \--" 

"Enough!" Claude snapped. 

He was angry - but they had a point. His 'door' was typically always open. The King of Almyra did not run the tightest camp when it came to receiving guests, allowing his generals, soldiers and, of course, Byleth, come and go as they pleased. They were used to letting Nader wander in and out without a second thought. And if the king was sloppy, he couldn't complain that his guards were the same. Besides, Claude was only so furious because of the circumstances. Had he and Byleth been innocently discussing the weather over tea, Nader lumbering in without warning wouldn't have mattered and he would have brushed it off without a second thought.

_ Calm down, Khalid, _ Claude told himself.  _ Think. _

He knew he had to step-back and downplay his overreaction. If he were to lose his famously lengthy temper, word would get around, and gossip would fill in the rest. There would be no need for the truth then. 

Thankfully, a fitting turnabout came to him immediately.

Shaking his head, Claude groaned dramatically. "To think I criticised the archbishop for having dull-witted guards! At least I had to  _ drug  _ hers to prove her security is lacking --  _ you two  _ just permitted someone to waltz in unchallenged. Twice!"

"Y-Your Royal Highness--!" Rifat spluttered. He seemed to understand what he was getting at, being a friend of Nawid. Doubtless, the latter had shared the story Claude's midnight machinations at the archbishop's tent the other night.

Claude resumed his faux tirade. 

"Now, the archbishop wishes to lecture  _ me  _ about  _ your  _ 'shambolic performance' and  _ ' _ lax attitude' towards camp security." Giving them a disappointed shake of the head, he added, "I hope you realise how bad this makes us look. How  _ humiliating  _ it is! And with such a crucial battle coming up!"

He could have laughed at the mortified looks on Rifat and Zaki's faces. 

_ If only Nader would cave as quickly to my act like these two. _

"A thousand apologies, Your Exaltedness!" Zaki stammered out, cheeks bright red. "We will be better for future times!"

"Yes." Rifat placed a hand on his partner's shoulder. He spoke the language much better than Zaki. "We cannot apologise enough."

Deciding they had suffered enough and seeing Nader off to the side watching, Claude decided to bring this sideshow to an end. "I suppose no real harm was done this time. Just know that the archbishop was  _ shocked _ by the lack of discipline. Be more careful in future."

"Of course!" Rifat promised as Zaki swore by the Wise One in his local dialect. "If there is anything we can do to reassure Her Grace, please let us know."

"I will bear that in mind," the king nodded, sternly. Eyeing their mugs lying on the ground, he ordered them to drink up before it went cold. "When I return inside, see that the archbishop and I are not disturbed. We have a lot to discuss - and many lives depend on these talks."

_ In more ways than one, _ he left unsaid. There wasn't just the strategy for the next battle on the table, after all.

He heard his old instructor clapping his hands theatrically, motioning him over. 

Claude's stomach knotted tight with renewed dread. 

_ Calm down. It's just Nader. _

Nader would never, ever betray him. He was the closest thing to an uncle Khalid had thanks to the preceding King of Almyra, his father's, bond with him. Even the  _ Shahbanu,  _ Khalid's mother 'Rhoxana', used to joke that no two men better embodied the primordial saying that,  _ "The blood spilt between comrades is thicker than mother's milk."  _

The indomitable warrior had known the youngest prince since he was in the cradle and at an early age, his parents had enlisted Nader to teach their  _ "scrawny little brat" _ how to fight. 

Little Khalid had always got into trouble since he was old enough to walk, and was not a natural-born fighter. So, they handed off their unusually slender, half-feral son with fresh cuts and bruises all over his body (courtesy of his peers), and hoped for the best. 

Nader proved to be both an excellent tutor, teaching the prince how to compensate for his lack of innate physical strength by focusing on his higher litheness and dexterity instead. He also taught him how to use an opponents largeness against them. This proved effective against Khalid's childhood tormenters. Nearly everyone was bigger than the little prince, especially in those days. Further, Nader was renowned across Almyra, from Fódlan's Throat to the Huangyi border. 

While Khalid's elder brothers and peers never accepted the " _ ahmixtan" _ , they did respect him more for standing his ground in their fights. Nader couldn't curb  _ all  _ of his capricious charge's life-long habits, though, as Khalid continued spiking their food or leaving booby-traps around his quarters to warn them off. 

The almighty general never wholly condemned Khalid for using his craft to get ahead in battle.

_ "Do what you can to survive. It doesn't matter if you don't always win, just don't lose. As long as you're alive, you fight and remain undefeated." _

So, Claude clung to those words in his darkest days and remained grateful to Nader for his abiding faith in him. 

Standing before him now, though, Claude wondered if that faith was irreversibly tarnished.

Nader was still trying to light the fire - usually, he would just get Frigis, his wyvern, to do it for him.

"Pull up a chair, kiddo." 

"Need some help?"

"Nah, I've got it," the older man grunted. "I can't promise this flame'll be as hot as the one you've got in there--" he nodded nonchalantly towards Claude's tent, "--but it'll suffice for our little chat, hm?"

"Funny."

"Is it?" 

Nader's voice was grave. 

Claude tried to ignore it, eyes fixed on his hands. 

"Seriously, old man, just let me do it--!"

As though Claude's frustration had been the required spark, a fire sprung forth at last to lick the logs. The king perched atop a wobbly log-bench. "You're losing your touch, Nader."

"These flints are getting old."

"Like you?"

"Cute, Khal. Had any breakfast?"

He waved a roll of bread in Claude's face.

"Let's not bother with the niceties."

"Very well." 

Claude crouched close to the fire, to speak in hushed terms with his  _ spahbad _ . 

"Go ahead then, say your piece," the older man prompted.

Claude loured. "'Say  _ my  _ piece'?! You barged into my tent, unannounced! I deserve  _ some  _ degree of privacy. Even from you."

"I'll apologise for that," Nader conceded. "But we both know you have a lot more than that to get off your chest." He observed Claude for a moment. "You should be grateful it was  _ me  _ who walked in."

"You already knew?" His chattiness the other day had bugged Claude ever since.

Nader scratched his nose awkwardly. "I guessed."

"So all that nonsense you spouted the other day wasn't about camaraderie - it was because you damned-well knew!"

"Damn it, Khalid. I didn't know, I  _ guessed, _ " Nader stressed firmly. "I wasn't sure - that's why I tried to get you to open up, but you've been an immovable object on the matter."

"Maybe I didn't want to talk about it with you."

"And that stings, kiddo. It really does." 

Nader poked the flames to help them kindle. "You used to confide in me."

"It's nothing personal..."

Claude's mouth felt dry. As he opened and closed his mouth to try and return some moisture to it, Nader handed him a plain clay cup of water like an attentive mother. 

He took it gingerly before swigging down almost all of it in three gulps.

"A part of me dreaded having to explain myself to you," Claude admitted with a refreshed breath. "Like some kid."

"Ha!" 

Nader's eyes seemed to glaze over as he stared ahead. He chuckled cheerlessly. "You'll always be a kid to me no matter how old ya grow or how grand a' title you acquire."

Whatever moment of nostalgia passed, and he resumed his gloomy demeanour. "You're sleeping with her, aren't you?"

Claude stared down at his cup, silent. 

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"Take it however you want," the king said brusquely.

"Well, how many meetings do you conduct in bed, while mounted atop them in your nightclothes?" 

"Your mind will fill in the blanks anyway - who am I to stop you?" 

"Has your mind gone  _ completely  _ blank, Khal?" The  _ spahbad  _ grunted, rubbing the frown lines on his brow. "Ploughing another man's pastures is one thing, but another king's queen? You're not just throwing caution to the wind, you're damn well pissing in its direction!" 

"Will you  _ damn well  _ keep your voice down?"

"Hmph."

Nader aggressively grabbed a mug of coffee sitting between his feet and took a long, succulent drink, so much so that Claude wondered if it was spiked. 

He smirked despite his nerves.

"By  _ Zodata!" _ the older man cried out, wiping his lips. "Sometimes I want to smack that smile right off that face of yours."

"Charming," Claude remarked, tersely.

"Agh! It's too early in the morning for this, kiddo! Sure, I suspected your passions for precious 'Milady Teach' had graduated to 'private tutorials', but I didn't think you -  _ you  _ of all people - would be daft enough to be rolling around in bed with her in the middle of the goddamn day--!"

"We  _ weren't _ \--!"

"Sandrame take you!" Nader bemoaned. "No, Sandrame _ ,  _ take  _ me. _ " With a dispirited look, the elder warrior sighed heavily. "Look, we both know that I am in no position to judge your relationship with this woman, nor can I rightly condemn her. Lord knows I wasn't a faithful husband to Safiya, rest her soul."

It had always puzzled a young Khalid why the late Safiya had never beat Nader bloody for his wandering eye. Having multiple concubines on top of a wife was not as uncommon in Almyra as in Fódlan, where only the Adrestian emperors, or the occasional Faerghusian king, undertook the practice. If an Almyran man could afford it and desired it, he could take on as many women as his house could hold. Not that Nader had done  _ that  _ \- he just 'got bored' when on a campaign, and camp followers were plentiful. 

_ "If he was my husband, I'd cut  _ **_ it _ ** _ off,"  _ Claude recalled his mother telling his father once. The veiled threat upon 'it' was not lost even on the child any more than it had his father.

"But... why her, Khal?" He shifted closer to Claude then, looking around them as if he feared someone - one of the guards or perhaps Byleth herself - might overhear. "Tell me, what flimflam do you have going this time?"

Claude's heart sank. There it was -- the accusation that this was all a scheme.

"Flimflam?" he repeated dimly.

"Come on,  _ Khal _ . You always have some sort of scheme cooking in that twisted little head of yours," Nader stated frankly. "And we both know you're more vicious than your pretty-face lets on when it comes to getting what you want."

Claude winced. 

"I don't say it to be cruel. It's your best feature. People think it's all on a whim, but I know you better than that." He stretched his burly arms and cracked his shoulder bones, stretching out the strain that Claude's actions put there. 

"So, enlighten me how cuckolding the Fódlan King makes the world a better place."

"It doesn't."

"Then does Milady Teach's magical-green pussy--"

"Don't talk about her like that!"

Nader ignored his outburst. " _ \-- _ hold the key to everlasting peace?! Seriously, Khalid. Assure me that this is all part of some incomprehensible cabal of yours. Preferably one that doesn't result in all of us dying in this dank country!"

"There is no 'cabal', Nader."

The older man groaned. "Is that really the truth?"

_ If there'd been a plan, I wouldn't be in the situation I'm in now. _

"Sorry to disappoint you."

When he first came to Fódlan, Claude was always prowling for 'useful' people. Talented sets of hands to recruit to his cause and further his goals. Everyone was a potential piece for his game board, including his Golden Deer. As much as he came to love them, Claude had pin-pointed their hidden potential and sought to utilise them, vowing to win them all to his way of thinking - through charm, reasoning or sleight-of-hand, whichever one worked best. And if they opened their hearts to him, he vowed to do the same.

Claude had wanted to peek into Teach's soul more than anything. Her riddle was the only one worth solving. Professor to the Blue Lions or not, he felt an inexplicable bond with her, like a cord wrapped around his heart, tugging him in. Before they fell in love, he resigned himself to never confessing his true feelings. The twirling emotions of love, desire and admiration had been abandoned to a realm of fantasy and 'what ifs'. 

_ I never wanted someone by my side so much, until her. _

"We... fell in love," Claude finished.

The older man tilted his head curiously.

_ He thinks I'm a fool. _ _ A myopic fool. _

"There wasn't a plan," he reiterated. "If I ever had a plan, it was seven years ago, and it had nothing to do with this. It would have been about..." The Sword of the Creator, her mysterious ability to use it without a crest-stone, and her abundance of skills beyond human logic. "Finding out all her secrets. I wanted her to be my teacher. Then, when I didn't get that, I wanted to be her friend. I'd ask her questions to see what made her tick. Then, from there, all of a sudden, I..."

His voice trailed off. It hurt to remember those days. The days before Byleth was his.

"She really has got under your skin, hasn't she?" Nader said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Y'know, I honestly thought you'd never get your dick wet."

Claude cried out, mortified. "Dear One!"

"What? You once told me you didn't want to have sex because you thought the woman would kill you. Now you're shagging that woman any chance you get."

"I told you that I wanted to wait for someone I love."

"Love, huh?" Nader mumbled. "There's that word again. And you're the only one?"

"Only what?"

"Milady Teach's only lover."

Claude glared. "Of course, I am."

"You're sure?"

_ "Yes." _

He believed Byleth when she said she had only been with two men - himself, and Dimitri. 

"Alright. Just checking. I suppose this means you have no intention of ending things with her. Before it's too late?"

"It's already too late."

"So what are you going to do? Sling her over your shoulder and carry her off?" 

Claude briefly ruminated a world where that was viable. 

He chortled sarkily. "Steal her. Fake her death and run away with her before Dimitri realises what's happened." 

"She wouldn't be the first Fódlan girl I've smuggled over the border," said Nader, drolly. 

_ It wouldn't work.  _ Not unless Claude  _ could  _ think of some unfathomably brilliant scheme to  _ make  _ it work. Even if he did, Byleth probably wouldn't agree to it. 

He sighed sadly.

_ She won't want to do a runner like that. _

And Claude couldn't neglect his duties at home much longer; his mother's letters were getting more irate by the page. Plus, with the snow steadily making its way around Fódlan, the Almyran army needed to pass the Throat before the Guardian Moon's end. Otherwise, the supply line would run dry until the thaw. 

Claude had to accept with a heavy heart that taking Byleth with him when he left might not be feasible. Even if they won this campaign  _ tomorrow.  _ Even if she told Dimitri the truth  _ the day after _ , Claude knew that Byleth's freedom would not be swiftly achieved. She wasn't just Dimitri's queen consort, either; she was the archbishop with her own responsibilities. It could take several moons to tie up all the loose ends, maybe longer. 

The thought made him feel dizzy. 

Soon, they would have to endure months and months without each other. Claude still wanted Byleth to tell Dimitri the truth, but short of some drastic turn, a game-changing revelation that would force them to act quickly and couldn't be ignored, the only way forward was this slow and gentle shift towards change.

"Pah, if only it were that easy," Nader muttered, echoing his thoughts. "It'll  _ never  _ be easy, Khal. There'll still be a scandal if she appears in your  _ talahr _ . As lovely as ya mother is, she's not quite as remarkable as this one."

Claude groaned vexedly. "Being the archbishop, then becoming my wife? The truth of our relationship need never come out; people will talk regardless." 

He noticed Nader's arched eyebrow. 

"What?"

"You wanna marry her?"

"If she agrees. If she wants to." 

He would have to ask Byleth. Again, marriage and spouse-status was a very different animal in Almyra. The  _ xsahxsahran's  _ blood and seed were considered sacred. Technically, if a  _ shah  _ fathered a child by a woman,  _ any  _ woman, and acknowledged them, they were legitimate. Thus, the succession was an open playing field and the notion of primogeniture laughable to Almyrans. Even if they had no children, House Arash - each carrying the 'consecrated' blood of past  _ shahs  _ \- had a slew of options available. So, Claude and Byleth could 'live in sin' for the rest of their days, and it wouldn't matter. 

"Are you sure you're happy with that, given she's supposedly barren?"

"Don't use that word."

"What word should I use?" Nader's tone wasn't cruel - it was pragmatic. "The fact still stands that the one-eyed king has failed to seed her.  _ You  _ haven't got her pregnant, have you?"

_ Not to my knowledge.  _ An inkling of something went through Claude's head, then out again. He then nearly told Nader about the elixir  _ mani el-Mashyana _ he brewed Byleth but stopped abruptly. It was none of Nader's business, neither was the status of Byleth's womb.

Side-stepping the previous question, Claude continued.

"I want her, whatever way necessary. But it's all moot while she's still married, and By seems terrified enough of what Dimitri will do when we tell him." 

"Hm, yes. I heard that part."

_ So you  were eavesdropping on us. _

Nader narrowed his eyes. "What do you think he'll do?"

" _ I _ don't think he would go  _ that  _ far, but..." 

_ I can't promise he won't. _

Claude would never forget Dimitri's actions during the Siege of Garreg Mach and then years later at the Battle of Gronder Field. The worst part was that he seemed to enjoy causing pain upon his fellow man. 'The Tempest' slaughtered anyone who crossed paths with one swift stroke of his lance, smiling sinisterly. The Blue Lion leader had practically decapitated an Adrestian soldier who had attacked them during the retreat from the monastery, and eyewitnesses claimed he had crushed a man's skull with his bare-hands when Edelgard first revealed herself as a traitor. 

He had read about the inhuman strength of House Blaiddyd and its crest. His mother carried that crest! He had seen that formidable strength first-hand. Just as Claude's crest of Riegan gifted him with a robust immune system and healed wounds miraculously fast, his family's distant Blaiddyd blood was on show full-force in Tiana von Riegan/Rhoxana. 

Yet Dimitri was something else. He was stalwart – yet unhinged. Claude had always supposed that the Tragedy of Duscar would be a cornerstone in Dimitri's development, one he could possibly hook the prince in with should he discover something interesting about it. 

But Dimitri was not just traumatised by what happened that day. It had driven him mad. 

Claude had put faith in Byleth bring Dimitri back to the 'land of the living'. And she had. 

_ But will he lose his grip on reality again if I take Byleth away…? _

"You knew her husband was mentally unstable, kiddo," Nader stated, interrupting his thoughts. "Didn't you consider for one moment that making him a cuckold wasn't a good idea?"

"I..." 

_ Didn't even think about Dimitri.  _

Claude cleared his throat. "It happened too quickly for me to do much in the way of thinking. Then, once it happened, it was... too late. Like I said. I-- Was overjoyed to finally be with Byleth. Beyond caring about anything else. It's not an excuse, and I'm not trying to excuse it. It's awful... But Dimitri couldn't have been further from my mind."

Now, he was all Claude could think about.

He vigorously rubbed his eyes. "I trust you won't tell anyone about Teach and me?"

"Of course, I won't," Nader replied, tone affirmative but world-weary. "But you need to take a step back and ask yourself if any of this is worth it. If  _ she  _ is worth it." 

Nader quietened Claude when he tried to object. 

"You might be  _ shah  _ now but shut up and listen!"

The king baulked but stayed quiet.

_ He's about to lay down the 'hard truths',  _ he thought resentfully.  _ Trying to bind me with common sense. _

The legendary warrior launched into his sober monologue. "Clever as you think you are, it won't have escaped our men's notice how much time you spend with 'Her Grace', and it won't have passed the Fódlans by, either. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them are already talking among themselves, and if they blab to the wrong person, your reputation will be ruined. What will happen to your woman then? Will protect her from her husband to your last breath?! And what will all of this mean for Almyra? Will we have to fight yet another war over your corpse?"

Drawing breath, at last, Nader finished his mug of coffee and stood up. His expression was despondent, towering over Claude as though he were that skinny, wild child all over again.

"I love you like a son. I've watched you grow-up, seen you come so far. You've always wanted the world to be an open prairie, but how many fences will go up if this gets out? Think long and hard, Khal. Please."

The taste of blood was potent in Claude's mouth. Each word Nader uttered was another consideration that the young king had wished to block out. He  _ had  _ to consider them. There had been bloodier Wars of Succession in Almyran history, but becoming an  _ xsahxsahran  _ had been a hard-fought-for title. He had united his home-land and the whole reason he had reached out to Dimitri and Byleth a year ago was to bring his two bloodlines closer together, at last. It was all he ever wanted. To bust open Fódlan's Locket and enter a new era of collaboration with Almyra's neighbours.

And yet...

"I won't give her up," Claude said pithily. "I  _ can't _ . I just... can't."

He wished he could change history itself. Maybe try harder to convince Byleth to lead the Golden Deer, or simply swallow his pride that last evening in Derdriu and confess his long-held feelings. If he could do that, maybe things would have played out differently. Even if Byleth hadn't accepted Claude's love at that time, it might have made her think twice when Dimitri proposed to her.

He scolded himself.  _ I can't rewrite the past, and it's a pointless exercise to dwell on it. The present is what matters - that's what builds the future. _

Now, his love was so absolute that a world without Byleth was suffering. _ You could tear down every star in the sky and hand it to me on a plate, I'd still choose her. _

Claude stood, staring dead into his instructor's sharp, hazel eyes. 

"Don't barge into my quarters again."

Nader deflated. "...As you wish, Your Royal Highness."

The king left, refusing to look back. It hurt to envision the look on the old guy's face. What he had said before was true - young Khalid had used to trust Nader more than anyone. Walking away from his senior now, it steadily dawned on Claude that their relationship might never be the same again.

_ He'll keep my secret, but he'll always remember I hid this from him. _

Legs like aspic, each step Claude took made him more conscious of the uneasy ground he walked on.

Nader was worried for Almyra. 

Byleth feared Dimitri's wroth. 

Claude fretted he was out of ideas. Out of control. Trapped between his duty as a monarch and unrelenting love for another man's wife.

He wanted to scream.

The pressure he carried in his body was immense, begging for relief. Pleading for something -  _ anything  _ \- to quell his sense of being trapped.

_ Byleth _ . Staring beyond the threshold of his pavilion, all he wanted was Byleth. If he could hold her, and be held by her. Kiss her. He was sure he would feel better. Be able to think clearly again.

Stepping back inside, Claude's eyes were immediately drawn to Byleth sitting cross-legged on his bed with a cup of ginger tea.

"Claude?" she asked tentatively, gazing at him round-eyed.

Immediately, the tautness in Claude's body curled tighter, aching at his loins. Though her cheeks glistened from dried tears and her lips looked scarlet from repeated anxious biting, she looked so beautiful. So comely.

"By..."

A deep, fervent breath escaped his chest.

He turned to tie the strings for the fly-cover shut, the stiffness had spread to his fingers, making it hard to loop the bow. 

_ It might arouse suspicions,  _ he thought apprehensively. _ But damned if I care at this point. _

Behind him, he could hear Byleth crawl off the end of his bed and patter towards him. Her presence crept upon him like heat from a hearth, scorching him when her hands, at last, reached out for him.

"Are you alright?" she whispered. 

He nodded.

Byleth wrapped her arms around his waist.

"How did it go?" 

Tightness returned to his limbs.  _ Where do I even start?  _ "I told him to keep what he saw and heard to himself, and he agreed." 

That was the crucial part.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was muffled by the thick cloth of his jacket. 

_ I don't think I want to answer that. Not yet. _

Another deep breath.

Claude spun to face Byleth and pivoted the question back to her.

"Are  _ you  _ alright?" His fingertips danced across her cheek, still doughy from her earlier tears. Tears of fear. The dread of Dimitri. "Y'know, after what we discussed earlier and then, well, what just happened?"

Her confession was succinct.

"Nader startled me." A brave smile followed quick, though. "The ginger tea helped. I'm more concerned about you right now. Just like earlier, and after what just happened."

Her parroting was welcomingly cute.

"Ha!" Claude bleated out. "I love you." 

Cradling her face, he leaned down to press a kiss upon her ruddy-lips. The tiny whimper it provoked sent another shot through his lower extremities. He only wanted to collapse into her hold. "I love you so, so very much."

"Claude, are you...?" Byleth's hands found his shoulders. "You're so stiff." She laid her head against his chest. "Your heart is sprinting!"

Her eyes were wide as pure-jade saucers now. A-leaping hearts still astonished Byleth, whose only sign of life was her delicate, fluttering pulse.

"I'm... overwrought, shall we say?" Claude admitted. "To put it mildly."

Byleth nodded knowingly.

"It finally happened." She stroked his jawline, tracing his beard. "Someone caught us."

His gut flip-flopped. Not long ago, being caught had been a perverse kink. Now, Nader's warnings haunted him like a ghost. 

"Yes. It did." It almost hurt to talk. "He won't tell anyone. I swear he won't."

"You trust Nader. That's enough for me." 

_ That trust means more than I'll ever be able to express.  _

"Are you still frightened?"

Byleth inclined her head to agree. "But... another part of me feels..." She bit her lips again; he was worried they would be broken and bruised by tomorrow. "Liberated."

He sniggered a little. "That's something, at least."

Foreheads pressed together like the panels of a book, he closed his eyes to breathe her in. He thought of Nader's jokes earlier and took the dream a step further.

"I wish we could run away from all of this." 

One of Byleth's infrequent giggles escaped her. More and more, they were becoming more usual.

"Let's just disappear." She was willing to play this game. "Become travelling vagabonds in Dagda, or scholars in Morfis?" 

Claude grinned. "Think of all those books and magical artefacts we could play with!"

"Sounds fun."

"We could just read and study by day." His hands found her hips, tugging her flush against his body. "And make passionate love by night." 

Byleth cooned dreamily. 

"It won't matter where we go, as long as we're together," he continued, "As long as no one ever finds us."

"A quiet life."

"A simple life."

_ It's just a dream—a selfish fantasy. _ The world was still broken, Claude was a king and Byleth was an archbishop-queen consort to  _ another  _ king. No matter where they went in the world, reality would eventually catch-up with them. But he would sell his soul just to live one day in that reverie of normality.

"I still I want to be candid," he declared. "There's so much on my mind, my sweet star. I told you I want to be honest." He swallowed hard. "As I spoke to Nader, all I wanted to do was get in over with so I could come back here and be with you. Now look at me - I'm a mess."

"Claude..." She placed her hands against his chest. "Tell me, what do you want?"

_ What do I want?  _ She had asked something similar earlier when they were speaking about Dimitri. Even after everything Nader had to say, he still wanted them to tell her husband the truth. To end the lie. But right now...? 

"Honestly? I just want you. To lose myself in you."

Byleth's tiny smile was enticing. 

"Then let me kiss you." She peeled away Claude's scarf to expose his bare neck, letting it glide to the ground. "Let me pleasure you." 

She tugged his jacket apart, burrowing for his skin. 

He froze, a little disbelieving.

"By, you don't have to," He thought of how she had been earlier. "You really don't--!"

Byleth hushed his lips.

"I want to." She returned to her task; tongue tracing his collarbone with a blazing trail, and her lips, chilly on his scorching flesh but red with sensuality. "After earlier, I feel jittery. On edge. I want... release." Coyly, she gazed up at him. "Is that crazy?"

_ Damn no!  _ his blood screamed, making his previously staunch limbs shake. 

His throat was tight. "No."

"Is it inappropriate?"

"Definitely."

"I  _ want  _ to pleasure you." Planting her mouth against his hot skin, pure and filled with ardour, he thought he might melt. "Don't you want me?" 

"I  _ always  _ want you."

Byleth beamed. She ran her hand down his body, coming to rest flat upon the bulge of his pants, against the embodiment of the desire she inspired in him. He rocked his hips forward intuitively, entirely aroused by her words and touch.

"You're always comforting me. Now, let me comfort  _ you _ ." She grazed the heel of her hand against him, earning a strangled groan from Claude.

"By..." He pulled her in for a kiss.

Byleth panted, her body now flush against him, his cock pressed against her soft belly.

Every part of him yielded unto her.

When he caught her eyes again, they were deep with desire, and she purred.

"Let me make love to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ##### Translations of High Almyran words
> 
> ###### Chapter 3: Hard Truths
> 
>  **hazahran-pasban** translates to 'Thousand-strong Watchers'. Constructed from the real-world "hazāra-pati", which was the title of the command of the Immortals i.e. the inspiration for Claude's battalion name, and the Middle Persian word 'pāsbān' (meaning 'guard' or 'watcher').  
>  **janob'e-ahli** _see Chapter 1 notes_.  
>  **shahsharan (Simplified)** , or **xsahxsahran** translates as 'King of all King's' or 'Kings' King'. Based very much on the real-life 'Shahanshah', which means the same. **Shah** means 'king'.  
>  **Subah 'kelyah** translates to "good morning".  
>  **ashibanu-** ahliah translates literally as "Great Holy Woman". It is what we would understand as a 'High Priestess', since the Almyrans don't have a church nor organised religion in the sense we Fódlan would understand it.  
>  **spahbad** _see Chapter 2 notes_.  
>  **Shah banu** translates as 'queen consort' (li. king's lady).  
>  **ahmixtan** _see Chapter 1 notes_.  
>  **Zodata** translates to 'God' (as the Wise One).  
>  **Sandrame** , also known as the 'Lady of Death' or 'Spirit Taker', is a 'reformed daeva' who was created by Chaos to tie the 'thread of life' around every human spirit's neck, dooming all to death. However, she was redeemed by the Wise One. Now, she rides across battlefields on her pale-mare, unhooking the nooses she tied, to save their souls and deliver them to the True Saviour.  
>  **talahr** translates as 'hall' and is what Fodlans would understand to be an 'audience hall' or room, which is open to the public. Based in the Persian word 'talar' and inspired by the hall of Darius at Naqsh-e Rostam, as depicted on his tomb.  
>  **mani el-Mashyana** refers to Mashyana's Jewels (Notes for Mashyana in Chapter 2), which refers to the seeds of a Pomegranate-like fruit. A contraception elixir can be brewed, with the seeds as the main ingredient.
> 
> ##### Author's note
> 
>  **Update (03/01/2021)**  
>  This was a difficult chapter to formulate and edit, going through numerous revisions. I had originally intended for _part_ of the smut to come at the end of this chapter, but I felt it distracted from Claude and Nader's discussion and made the chapter too long. So, it will now all be included in Part 4.
> 
> I'm back at work now so this last chapter might take a wee-longer to edit and post, so please bear with me. Thank you once again for your continued support, let me know what you all think and Happy New Year! ♡

**Author's Note:**

> ##### Translations of High Almyran words
> 
>  **Explanation of the Almyran Calendar (Ara'straum Calendar)**  
>  This is based on a fantasy calendar I put together for an original work that I repurposed here. A picture reference for the full translations is [here](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50653032998_8a50812393_c.jpg)
> 
> _For all other translations, see the end of each chapter._
> 
> ##### Notes on Places
> 
>  **Gwydion** is a barony town on the Leicester side of the Airmid river, bordering Gloucester and Ordelia territories. The Baron of Gwydion is a minor lord sworn to House Gloucester and manage checkpoints for goods coming and going from Adrestia via the Bridge of Gwydion.  
>  **Gwalchmai's Mouth** is the opening to the mountainous area, the **Gwalchmai Ravine** , between Bergliez and Hrym territory.  
>  **Lake Awen** a large lake within the boundaries of Miach Forest. **Afanc Falls** flows into the northernmost point of Awen.  
>  **Almariyyah** translates to 'The Watchtower', from the real-life Almeira in Spain. It is located within Ansah'hakulah, the central fortress within Ansah (City of the Warrior).
> 
> ##### Author's note
> 
> Thank you for reading this far.


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